The Graduation Blues
by A.tmosphere 03
Summary: Sam Winchester has waited what seems a lifetime for his graduation. Now, with the day finally here, what can go wrong? But what he doesn’t realize is that nothing can ever go right with the last name of Winchester.
1. Prologue: The Graduation Blues

HIYA! Okey-Dokey. So, before you read, I will just say that this is my first Supernatural fic. Now, I don't read much Supernatural stuff myself (but a few stories by trusted authors) so, if you have a story up that is like this, I'm sorry. Please notify me : (. Okay? Alright. Hopefully this is spectaculacular XD. Hehe. That was a great episode, right? Talking about Sam, Interrupted, by the way.

Okay, here it is!

Enjoy!

**SxDxBx**

I don't own. Eric Kripke is the proud parent of this wonderful creation : )!

**Title: **_The Graduation Blues_

**Summary: **Sam Winchester has waited what seems a lifetime for his graduation. Now, with the day finally here, what can go wrong? But what he doesn't realize is that nothing can ever go right with the last name Winchester.

**Rating:** T for mild language

**SxDxBx**

"_**You know, **_

_**that's what you said when you snaked my ATM card, **_

_**or when you bailed on my graduation, **_

_**or when you hooked up with Rachel Nayv."**_

_**-Season 2; What Is And What Never Should Be**_

**SxDxBx**

**Prologue: The Graduation Blues**

Sam Winchester stood in the line of awkward, fidgety, soon-to-be graduates. He, himself, was just as nervous as the next guy, yet he managed to keep a cool demeanor without freaking out or showing it his fear. He thought and understood it to probably be from his experience at "the family business," but he was not certain.

One thing he did not understand is why everyone was so nervous. Perhaps it was the fear of walking across that stage and then the principal leaning over and whispering _you aren't allowed to graduate, sorry _in their ear. Or, he thought, maybe they were afraid to venture out into that big, new world. But Sam was not afraid. He had been out in that world, thrived there even. He had seen the every horror you could possibly see… that 99.9% of these kids had not…

The line in front of him began to dwindle to a mere twelve or so kids as they walked across the long stage. His turn was coming. Oh was he ready. Finally, he thought, I'll be a graduate. I'll be done with a different high school every month––once in a great while every two weeks––and I'll be… free.

But he was not sure if he was ready.

The next thing he knew was that he was standing in front of the five stairs that lead up onto the platform stage.

"Samuel Winchester," a large man in a navy blue suit that, by goodness, _just_ buttoned over the heaping mass of stomach that bulged under his shirt.

He gazed over the strange-lit horizon of the stage before him. With an apprehensive foot, he tested the first step. It held his weight, as if it wouldn't, and he moved up the remaining steps.

He willed himself to walk across the stage, to grip the rolled up piece of paper, to shake the principal's wrinkled hand and smile as he looked toward the clapping, half-bored crowd as a few people snapped candids of their children still standing in line.

Somewhere he could here the _whooping_ of what he thought to be Dean. His heart blasted in his chest, and his back felt stiff and rigid. Mr. Potter, the principal, let go of Sam's hand but, odd enough, Sam continued to stand there, frozen in front of the mass of people.

The principal mumbled, "you can go now," but Sam seemed not to hear.

He repeated it, and Sam realized that he was talking to him.

"Huh?"

"You can go now, son."

"Oh," a few childish characters laughed (one of whom he thought to be Dean) as he, as fast as possible, exited the stage.

Once off stage, he realized that he had not been breathing. He let out the breath he had been holding, and relaxed his shoulders. He had finally, _finally_ graduated. Not exactly with scholastic honors––he should have because he was definitely smart enough––but with the honor of success.

Academic honors were not possible for him, they moved around too much and he missed a ton of school for obvious reasons. But, at least he graduated, unlike Dean who dropped and got a GED instead. Which was fine, because that was what Dean, and he thought his Dad, wanted.

Dean was meant to be a hunter. No other job would suit him. Sam could never imagine him in a office, doing his work with a content look upon his face. Nor could he imagine Dean as a doctor, a lawyer, or a construction worker.

But Sam _wanted_ to graduate and maybe even go to college. Although he knew the college thing would be something far off, he still had the family business to look forward to for years to come.

He, once again, sat in the rows of better-behaved yet still shaky graduates as the last few walked across the stage and received their diploma in a bit of a better manner then he had himself. And, as the minutes passed, all of the students of the class of 2001 had graduated.

"We," Mr. Potter scratched the patch of gray beard that coated his round face. "Will be dismissing our young graduates to the side yard for the traditional cap-throwing festivity. Ah, then we will, um, be dismissing the parents and relatives.

"On behalf of the students, the school, and the staff––thank you for coming today!" And with that, he released the hoard of shoving, laughing and some even barfing, kids.

He pushed through the doors and bright, hot sunlight greeted him. The sun was something he loved; something he cherished. Maybe it was because of the many times he spent crawling through dark, dank places in search of ghosts or ghouls or the other mythical––yet real––creatures that plagued this world.

The one hundred and fifty-five graduates finished up the ceremony with the traditional cap-throwing and then they dispersed to talk to their family who were now swarming out of the colossal auditorium. Among that crowd was _his_ family, but so far he did not see them.

Then, all of the sudden, he seen Dean strutting through the crowd, occasionally turning his head to get a look at a girl's rear end. Sam had to stifle a laugh; that's all he ever thought about, wasn't it? Ghosts and girls. An odd combination, one might say,

"Hey Sammy, congrats!" Dean beamed as he slapped his brother of the back.

Sam grinned, "Ah, thanks." Sam paused and then said, "Hey, where's Dad?"

"Nice out today, isn't it? Can you I believe I scored three––"

"Dean, where's Dad?" Sam interrupted in a hasty voice. This time the question was a little more forceful.

"––girls phone numbers. Two blonde's and a––

"_**Dean!**_"

"What the hell? Would you let me finish? Really, Sammy, you're being rude. Just because you graduated from high school and think you're all smart and everything doesn't give you the right to prance around and interrupt me like a… like, in the words of Bobby Singer, a _stupid idgit_!

"Now, where was I? Oh yeah, so I got the digits for two blonde's and a redhead. Oh man was that redhead something else! And you _know_ how I like blondes…" Dean flashed a smile, "So what were you saying?"

"_Where is our __**father**_."

"I wonder where Bobby could be… He was right behind me… then he wasn't. I swear he's getting delusional in his old age!"

"I heard that," Bobby glared at the oldest Winchester brother before turning to Sam. "Congratulations, kid."

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam was caught up in the moment; he smiled like an idiot. Then his face jumbled into a look of annoyance. "Hey hey, now, you're trying to distract me!"

Bobby flashed a accusing glance at the older Winchester. Dean shifted mildly uncomfortable and looked his brother in the eyes.

Those eyes… Dean thought, have seen so much. Too much. How is he gonna take this?

Dean bit his lip, "Dad had…"

"Oh god… no." Sam's look of annoyance melted into a look of pure, hateful rage. He glanced around at his fellow classmates. _They_ were happy. _They_ had their mothers or fathers there.

_He _didn't.

"You know, I hate him sometimes." Sam said in a wistful, angered voice. "I hate him so much I wish they… _those things_ would kill him. Murder him. He… he only cares about himself anyways."

Sam raised his head, "he's just an inconsiderate asshole, that's all."

Bobby stifled a giggle, but Dean did otherwise.

He took a thundering step toward Sam and grabbed a fistful of his gown. Dean slammed his brother against a tree.

"Don't you _ever_ talk like that about our father. He would be here if he could… if he could just get out of it… he'd give anything to be here. So don't you talk––"

"If he'd give anything," Sam panted, trying to push Dean off. Even though Sam had a good few inches on his brother, Dean was the stronger one. "Why won't he give it up? Or, I don't know, not go this time. He knew how much my graduation met to me."

"You're selfish, you know. He's trying to save people." Dean bellowed through clenched teeth.

"Dean, get the hell off of me," Sam growled and tried to free himself once more.

Dean pushed down on his brother once more before letting up. Sam popped up off the tree and walked over to Bobby.

This was the first time Sam had really thought about quitting. Of course, he had always wondered…. What would it be like? He had thought about it a few other times, weighing his pros and cons. But never had he actually been serious.

He'd always wanted to do something more with his life.

He just stayed in the family business because, well, he didn't want to give up on his father (even as much as John Winchester pissed Sam off at times). But, now, what did he care if he gave up on his father? Let someone else "rid the world" of the supernatural creatures that lurked in it.

Then there was Dean… Dean, he believed, would make him hang on. But that was because, deep down, he loved his brother. Even on a day like this when they were at each other's throats… literally.

Sam knew Dean didn't mean it, though. He was just overprotective when it came to things about their dad. You see, Dean worshiped John. He wanted––and thrived––to be like John. Dressing like him, eating like him, thinking like him, and, most importantly, hunting like him.

But he would never _be_ him, and Sam wondered if Dean understood that.

But that's not the issue on hand. Right now, let's get back to the boys.

Dean felt a pang of guilt rip through his heart. He took one diffident step after another until he reached his brother. He sighed as he threw an arm across his brother's shoulders.

"Sam, look, I'm sorry. I really am. Damn, I didn't mean to blow like that. I just…"

Sam looked at his brother, and pulled away from his arm, "Dean, we look gay. You're usually the one to say that, but we look absolutely, positively gay with you hanging all over me like you're my––"

"––you're bitch?" Dean flashed his signature smile, and continued grinning.

"I was gonna say boyfriend… but I guess that works."

"Although, you'd be my bitch. Because, you know, I'm defiantly the manlier one."

"Yeah right!" Sam snorted. "Oh, man, I'm glad at least you two came. By the way, thanks Bobby. I know it was a long drive."

"No problem, kid."

"You too, Dean. I mean, I know I would've done the same thing for you… if you'd have graduated."

Dean felt that guilt return and engulf his heart. He had to tell Sam the truth… it was only fair. Or right, whatever way you put it.

"Well, you see… I kinda… didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Oh come on, Sammy. I thought you were a high school graduate!"

"You didn't… come? But, but… the blondes… the red head… the phone numbers?"

"I got them at the bar… where I came from… before I got here. That's why I was late. I kinda got… occupied."

"So you bailed?!"

"Yeah, kinda. Okay, I did."

Sam turned to Bobby, "Bobby, don't tell me _you_ were with this idiot."

"No, Sammy. I was here the whole time."

"But… but…" Sam stuttered, "you're lying, Dean. 'Cause I heard you yelling. And then laughing at me… I know it was you!"

"No Sam, it wasn't me." Dean said in a pensive voice. "It must've been someone else."

"Sorry kid," Bobby laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "But your brother wasn't there."

Sam let out a troubled sigh. He glared at his brother. Once again, he hated him. He hated him with his whole heart. His whole soul. Every muscle was crying out…

"Oh Sammy… don't give me that look… You're my brother…"

"And I'm your brother." Sam said tensely, "but––"

Sam was caught off by the blood-curling screams of a lady somewhere within the crowd. The three looked at each other, and––the brother's, differences aside––took off through the crowd. Bobby hot on their heels.

Sam made it there first, and––as he approached the scene––he knew that this would be, yet another, fight against evil.

**SxDxBx**

Okay. Comments? Questions? Snide remarks? Leave 'em here. I'll be happy to receive them.

Also, if there are any mistakes, please tell. I edited this while listening to the Whitest Kids U Know… so, yeah. If you've ever seen it, you'd understand. Am I wrong? Lol.

Also, I plan to have the next chapter up in a jiffy.

3


	2. Comfortably Numb

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Supernatural_ or "Comfortably Numb." Eric Kripke and Pink Floyd happen to be. I just borrow... steal... from them XD. Lol.

* * *

**

Chapter 1

**Comfortably Numb**

* * *

**Hello,**

**Is there anybody in there**

**Just nod if you can hear me**

**Is there anyone at home**

**Come on now I hear you're feeling down**

**I can ease your painAnd get you on your feet again**

**R****elax.**

**I'll need some information first**

**Just the basic facts **

**Can you show me where it hurts? **

_** -Comfortably Numb; Pink Floyd**_

**SxDxBx**

Sam reached the scene and nudged his way through the dispersing crowd. Dean, behind him, was shouting at the people to move, but his voice seemed to carry away in the atmosphere and blend in with the apprehensive cries.

As soon as he reached the inner rim of the circle, he saw what they were all screaming about.

Sam heard Dean's quick intake of breath before he spun around and gave his brother a wide-eyed glance. Dean wore a stunned look on his handsome face as he tried to talk. Nothing came out. Not even a gasp.

Dean forced himself to speak, to call out, "Bobby…!" He looked frantically through the crowd before seeing a lone hand fly up and wave.

"There he is!" Sam breathed, "come on, come on, people! Let the man threw!" He hollered over the crowd.

Bobby pushed his way through until he reached the boys. His eyes darted to the inside of the circle were the injured girl screamed in agony.

"Come on," Bobby grunted and fought his way into the center.

As Bobby went to the girl, Sam and Dean went to the frantic family. But before they could really start asking anything, an ambulance came and whisked away the girl. The family sprinted to their cars, leaving the threesome empty-handed.

"Crap," Bobby breathed and turned around to face the boys.

"What are we gonna do?" Dean looked to Sam, then Bobby.

"Well what do you think we are gonna do, idgit. We're going to the hospital."

**SxDxBx**

John had left the Impala for Dean to drive, him taking a hunk-of-scrap he borrowed off of Bobby.

He really, honestly felt bad… Sam, his youngest, was graduating. _Graduating!_ Wow, how old he felt. If only he knew how short his life was to be. Maybe, just maybe, he'd take all of this in… He'd dwell on these opportunities to spend time with his sons.

Another thing he really, honestly knew was that his sons were excellent hunters. That had been his doing. He smiled to himself. He had made them like they were.

_Damned. Scarred. Angered._

No, he told himself. They were happy. But… happy was the only word he could find; and, deep down, he knew they weren't truly happy.

But that couldn't matter. They had to kill Azazel… everything, well, was his fault. That demon alone––with his grotesque yellow eyes––had caused so much chaos in the Winchester family… Hell, he was the reason they fault. So this was obviously the Yellow-Eyed Demon's fault.

_Or was it?_

There goes my stupid conscious speaking again, John laughed. But do they call it a "conscious" for nothing? I mean, really. He was missing something here, and he couldn't figure it out for the life of him.

_So… risky._

He had done many things that were risky.

_So… stupid._

Ditto that line.

_So… pointless._

Avenging the death of his wife––his children's mother––pointless? Really? But… but… it was important. He knew this because, well, it had to be important.

_So… selfish._

Now _that_ was a word he had been hearing a lot. _Selfish_. Oh how he hated it!

He flipped the radio on, and let the sounds of Pink Floyd wash away that little voice in his head.

**There is no pain, you are receding**

**A distant ship smoke on the horizon**

**You are coming through in waves**

**Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying**

**When I was a child I had a fever**

**My hands felt just like two balloons**

**Now I've got that feeling once again**

**I can't explain, you would not understand**

**This is not how **

**I am I have become **

**Comfortably numb**

**SxDxBx**

Dean slipped into the driver's seat while Sam went to crawl into the back.

"Don't bother, Sammy," Bobby hollered over from his rust-bucket of a car. "I'll follow you."

Sam nodded and dropped down into the passenger seat. He sighed and briefly considered riding with Bobby. It was just… awkward riding with Dean.

Dean glanced over, and giggled.

"What?"

"Are you going to the hospital like that?"

"Crap," he muttered, pulling the graduation gown off of his head and tossing it in the back seat. He grabbed his cap, stroked it, and then did the same except a little more gently.

He had wore his blue suit under his graduation garb, so he didn't have to change out of his clothes. He would, however, have to devise a plan of who he was.

"Dean, who am I?"

"Err," Dean scratched his stubbly chin. "Sam Winchester, I believe."

"Really, thanks Captain Obvious. I meant, who do I tell these people I am?"

They pulled into the hospital parking lot and drove around back to "Emergency Room Parking."

"Oh, you mean you think the people saw you graduate or whatever," Sam nodded. "Well, you're our intern." Dean cracked a broad grin. "Or you're gonna sit in the car!"

"I," Sammy said, disgusted. "Am _not_ sitting in the car!"

"Then you're our intern," Dean smirked.

"Greaaat."

**SxDxBx**

Dean had fetched his blue suit out of the back seat, and his badge out of the glove compartment. Bobby had done the same.

They began to walk across the parking lot, each looking sharp in their suits. Bobby had even took his hat off.

"Bobby, how do you know we're looking at something… out of the ordinary?" Sam asked, wording his question with care.

Bobby glanced from side to side, to make sure nobody was listening, "I felt a chill."

"A chill." Sam repeated. "Just what I needed to _hear_ on my graduation day."

"So it means it's a…"

"Yeah Dean," Bobby held the door open for the brothers. "It's a ghost."

Dean and Sam walked in, both thinking the same thing. _At least we know how to kill it_. Sam laughed to himself, he was the research man most of the time. Dean never did stuff like that, and Bobby could access any book, newspaper archive or contact they needed _if_ it didn't involve the internet.

"Wait here, boys." Bobby strolled to the receptionist's desk. Once he was out of sight, Sam turned to his brother

"Dean…"

"No Sam, let me talk." Sam nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't come, I mean, it was something big and I should've been there to support you. You've never said no to me, or… or skipped out on me. You've always had my back––" Dean sighed.

"I'm really sorry, especially the way I treated you back there… it was uncalled for."

Sam bit his lip, "Oh whatever, it was only graduation." Sam laughed, "Nothing too important."

Dean smiled and hit Sam on the back; he was relieved that he was on good terms with his brother again.

"Oh, and Dean?"

"What?"

"You know I didn't mean all of that stuff I said about Dad… right?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I knew."

"Good," Sam smiled.

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Yup, everything was back to normal.

By that time, Bobby had came back.

"She's on the third floor. Not seriously hurt but…"

"But what, Bobby?" Sam crinkled his brow.

"She has psychological damage, or so they think. She only suffered minor injuries, like a broken arm that they can't cast till tomorrow when the swelling goes down… but she's freaked out. Seriously freaked out."

"So… do we have one pissed off ghost on our hands, or what?" Dean leaned back against the wall.

"I think so…" Bobby picked through each word. "I mean, all of the signs are there… so, yeah. But we have to talk to the girl first, but she's not open for questioning for another two hours…"

"Why so long?" Sam looked from Bobby to Dean.

"Because she's doped up right now, Sammy." Bobby said, then added, "but we could go have lunch and Sam can do some research…"

"Lunch? I'm in." Dean smiled, "Bacon cheeseburger, here I come!"

**SxDxBx**

**In 1922, North High School (in Des Moines, Iowa) was established. Because of the large amount of students that attend (the school holds over 1,100 students grades 9-12), graduation ceremonies were forced to be held outside of the school's own auditorium.**

**Alexandra P. Wellington was a soon-to-be graduate of North in 1932, but three days before graduation, she was brutally murdered by her step-father William Jennings. Wellington's body was left outside the auditorium next to the school.**

**To this day, Michael Lancaster Music Hall (where the initial graduation ceremonies are held) is said to be haunted by Wellington. According to the records, there have been five ghost attacks (occurring after graduation) outside of this building, in the courtyard where said victim was killed.**

Dean whistled, "sounds like we have a lunatic bitch."

Bobby chuckled, "Does it say where she's buried?"

"Mmm," Sam scrolled down. "Nope, but I'll find out."

"You do that, boy. Me and your brother will go pay a visit to our victim.

**Okay, **

**Just a little pin prick**

**There'll be no more aaaaaaaah! **

**But you may feel a little sick**

**Can you stand up?**

**I do believe it's working, good**

**That'll keep you going through the show **

**Come on it's time to go.**

**SxDxBx**

Twenty minutes later, Bobby and Dean were standing outside a hospital room belonging to Laurie Clements, the victim of a supposed ghost attack.

The nurse that lead them to the room––the young, the brunette and, as Dean later told Sam, a "incredibly _hot_ chick named Lynette"––knocked on the door before popping her head in.

"Laurie? There are some detectives here to see you." Lynette took a supple step into the room. "They're from the FBI."

Laurie's eyes widened. But that was about all that Dean could see through the slightly cracked door. This is just a bad idea, he thought as he threw Bobby a questioning glance. She'd never agree to us seeing her.

Yet, astonishing as it may seem, she did. With a slight nod of her head, she agreed. The nurse left, eyeing Laurie to make sure she was comfortable.

"So," Bobby smiled. "You're Laurie Clements?"

She scanned both of the faces of the men before nodding.

"Hi Laurie," Bobby gave his friendliest smile. "I'm detective John Anders and this is my partner, detective Evan Schwartz."

"Hi," she squeaked out.

Dean and Bobby pulled up two, hardback hospital chairs to her bedside. She squirmed and looked at the two.

"So," she said, her voice only a whisper. "Are you going to believe me? 'Cause its no use in telling you if you aren't gonna believe me."

Bobby was taken back. He thought this girl would be hard to handle! But here she was, ready to give him any information he wanted as long as they believed her. Now, he thought, we just have to find out what she saw to confirm his thoughts, and help this girl on her way to recovery.

"Why wouldn't we?" Dean laughed.

She sighed, "Because. Everyone things I'm crazy." She sat up and slid toward them, paying special need to his injured arm, "But I'm not. Oh you must believe me!"

"Shh, shh. Just calm down, and tell us what you saw." Dean gripped her forearm with light fingers. "Just scoot back and relax." She did so, and Dean released his hold.

"Okay, so what happened." Bobby gently prodded.

She lowered her head for a split second before raising it again, "I kept… catching glimpses of _something_ throughout the who ceremony. It was weird. Like… something was watching me. Some, well, sad soul. But it couldn't have been someone… because, because… it wasn't real."

She started to cry, "it was the worse thing _ever_. It tried to k-kill me. I was so scared…" Her voice––soft and wistful––mingled and faded with the beeps of the hospital. She quivered and tried to speak again––but it was stuck in her throat.

"Laurie, can you tell me what the thing looked like?"

"It… it looked like something from a horror movie… something from my worse nightmares. And when I saw it, well, it made me feel numb… and detached. Like I wasn't even there. I tried to fight it, but it kept on coming. The fighting… the fighting was a never-ending battle. But it was so… so evil looking."

Then she broke down into fits of crying.

**There is no pain you are receding **

**A distant ship smoke on the horizon**

**You are only coming through in waves **

**Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying **

**When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse**

**Out of the corner of my eye**

**I turned to look but it was gone**

**I cannot put my finger on it now**

**T****he child is grown**

**The dream is gone**

**And I have become **

**Comfortably numb **

**SxDxBx**

**(a/n): Thanks for the one, lonesome review I got! Lol. Also, great thanks to everyone who read, alerted or such this story. It's really appreciated! Now this time drop a review :D.**

**-03**

**PS: I am a HUUUGGE Pink Floyd fan, lol. Just thought I'd... tell ya that. **


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